"I hear that he walks the North these days, strides amongst the Silver Firs of those harsh lands. His followers struggling behind in the frost mist. New ones joining the lines everyday the, drawn to him by some mysterious force."

The landscape is a product of nature's own processes and humanoid activities troughout centuries or millenia.
How can we capture this in our stories, and deliver vivid and semi authentic descriptions?

These are not ordinary gems, these are Thrar Stones. They are rocks that have been caught in the trunks of growing trees. Over thousands of years they are forged from stone to gem.

Deep in the Ankorillian jungles grows the Corpse Flower. A dreaded plant that can entangle and poison you silently.
Hours later your companions notice your absence,
turn and search for you.
As they backtrack they unknowingly pass your last resting place.
A rather smelly, orange plant.

When did it all start? He would never know for sure, although he traces it, like a finger on a map following the broad river back to the invisible thread of the beginnings, to one evening early winter.

Come hither peasant!